


Wrapping Paper

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Celebrations, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Lingerie, Love, M/M, happy happy happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 10:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15947522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: It's Steve's birthday, and he justknowsTony's going to get him another over-the-top gift this year.





	Wrapping Paper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashes0909](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/gifts).



> For my darling girl, my soulmate, my sweetener, my ashes0909. You're the Steve to my Tony and I can't wait til I get to "held" you again! <333
> 
> Big thank you to sadieb798 for a speedy beta!
> 
> Thank you to the MCU discord and willidothefandango for sharing [this amazing inspiration.](http://willidothefandango.tumblr.com/post/163998728493/wssh-watson-yellowmiche-justanothertart)

Steve wakes up with a little jump-skip of his heart, remembering all at once that it's his birthday today.

Birthdays before the ice were bittersweet. His ma would always try her best to make a cake, though sometimes ingredients were so hard to come by that it was more like a nod towards something almost cake-like. But it really was the thought that counted, that his ma would work a long shift at the hospital then come home and try her best to make something special for him. Those cakes always tasted  better than he imagined the fancy concoctions down at the bakers would.

Sometimes she managed presents - some new paper or pencils, a book, a toy - but even in the years when she didn't, they would spend the evening together, playing cards or reading out loud, laughing.

Now, in a new age and a new world, birthdays are something else entirely, exacerbated intensely by the fact that Steve's boyfriend is a billionaire with somewhat of a flair for the dramatic.

Before they were even together Tony got him a new motorcycle for his birthday. The year after they started dating? An island. Tony flew them to a private island he’d bought (and named after Steve) where he'd custom designed a cottage just for them. A cottage bigger than Steve's entire block had been back in Brooklyn.

It's a lot.

But Steve loves Tony more than anything in the world, and Tony likes to show his love in extravagant ways, so, year after year, Steve braces himself for the crushing deluge of over-the-top gifts.

Tony seems to be trying to outdo himself. Two years ago, when Steve had turned thirty, he'd woken up to their entire apartment filled with brightly-wrapped boxes. It had taken so long to open everything, they'd both been late for the party the other Avengers had set up.

Tony always asks him, in the weeks leading up to the big day, "What do you want for your birthday?"

And Steve always says, "Just you."

But four years into their relationship, five years after they'd met, and Tony _still_ finds some way to go even bigger the next year.

Steve stretches out on their cloud-soft, cotton sheets and blinks up at the ceiling. It takes a moment to register the fact that Tony's not beside him. Tony's often not beside him when he wakes, often not beside him when he falls asleep too - though he usually at least gets one or the other. But on his birthday, he thought…

He gets out of bed, flipping his phone over to see the staggering number of notifications making the light blink furiously. It seems that Twitter has remembered his little confession from two years ago, that July 4th - while listed on almost all official documentation - is not his actual birthday, but something they thought would look good for Captain America. Steve was worried to admit it, but the world seems to prefer the inside peek over the destruction of whatever image they have of him as Cap, and this year the internet has exploded with affection for the leader of the Avengers, on the right day.

In a way, he gets two birthdays now, one for Steve and one for Cap.

Steve finds Tony in the kitchen, coffee in progress, a bluetooth speaker in his ear, and toast and eggs laid out on the counter. The apartment is, thankfully, as they left it last night, no stacks of gifts, or construction workers remodeling the kitchen exactly the way Steve wants it, or… or a horse with a bow on it standing in the living room or something. Steve's grateful for that.

"No, no the FA-898," Tony says into the mic, his eyes lighting up when they fall on Steve; it makes Steve's heart skip every time. "It's from 2010, you'll know it as soon as you see it." He mouths _sorry,_ but Steve kisses his apology away and grabs a plate of eggs.

He eats and reads the paper on his tablet - fondness for physical news forcefully erased years ago by Tony's cries of archaicness and the environment. Tony's voice is a half-murmur in the background as he talks shop with someone at SI.

They both try and take as many special dates off of work as they can - birthdays, anniversaries, holidays - but today they've both failed, which, Steve supposes is better than Tony being stuck at work while Steve's home alone, celebrating in pouty solitude. Steve has a training run with new recruits that he can't reschedule, and Tony has a list of meetings that all sound better suited to someone in the White House sit room, but try as he might, most of what Tony does at SI goes over Steve's head anyway. So they'd both agreed they'd meet up again at the Avengers dinner party early that evening and have the rest of the night to themselves.

Still, Steve realizes, he's waiting, on edge, for Tony to present him with something bow-topped right away, even though they won't be celebrating properly for several hours yet. It doesn't happen, though. Tony gets off the phone and draws Steve into a warm, happy kiss, instead. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you." Steve hooks his arm around Tony's waist, won't let him leave until he's had his fill. He's insatiable, though, when it comes to Tony's kisses, so eventually, he has to release him unsatisfied. "I love you."

"Love you, too." Tony beams, and Steve's chest feels tight, skin feels warm.

He reaches out and draws Tony in again, even as Tony reaches for his breakfast, and Tony lets him, laughing. Steve nuzzles into his neck, hands wandering, fingertips teasing up under the hem of Tony's shirt. Tony pushes him away gently. "As much as I'd love to…" He grinds up against Steve's thigh a little, punctuating his words, "I really have to run."

"I know." Steve lets him go again, picks up his fork to give his grasping hand something to do. "Tonight."

"I am all yours tonight. And tomorrow morning. We'll get our day, even if it doesn't happen all at once."

"I know," Steve repeats with a smile. He really is okay with it. It's just hard to remember that _now,_ when all he wants to do is drag Tony back to bed.

He's still expecting a frivolous gift before Tony leaves, so when he presses one last kiss to Steve's forehead and swoops out the door with his briefcase, Steve is momentarily stunned. He sits for a while, waiting for something to drop from the ceiling or a confetti bomb to go off, but all is quiet.

Eventually, he has to conclude that Tony is waiting until the party. He likes a spectacle, making a fuss, and he knows their friends will post Steve's embarrassment on social media as well, which apparently, only makes it more delicious.

Steve packs up too, leaving the dishes for Tony because it’s his birthday - so there. It feels weird to walk out of the tower with no fanfare, no goodbye kisses, but as soon as he gets on his bike, his pocket buzzes with a text.

_Tony: Can't wait to see you tonight, birthday boy. ;)_

Steve smiles down at it, his bike rumbling between his legs. He's already pushing late, but he takes a moment to write back.

_Steve: Same. Miss you already._

Tony's answer comes immediately.

_Tony: Sap._

And then after a heartbeat.

_Tony: Miss you too._

Steve makes it into the office, checks his email, and starts a meeting before Tony texts him again.

_Tony: You're getting old._

Steve hides his smirk with his coffee cup.

_Steve: Just trying to catch up to you, sweetheart._

_Tony: Rude._

Steve turns his snort into a cough.

The texts continue. Most of them, Steve doesn't get right away because he's in the training sim, running his crew of agents through their test. He leaves his phone in his locker because if he has it in his belt, he'll be tempted to check, and that's not fair to his agents. It doesn't stop him from rushing through the post and running off to his locker after.

_Tony: You're even sexier now, you know. You're aging well._

_Tony: Every year I think you'll hit maximum pretty - like it's not possible for a person to be any prettier than you - and then you top it._

_Tony: Heartbroken I didn't get a taste of you this morning._

Steve's cheeks heat, skin tingling.

_Tony: You taste even better on birthdays. Also didn't know that was possible._

Steve shoots a text back.

_Steve: Are you sexting me in a meeting, Tony Stark?_

_Tony: Oh boy, if you think that's sexting… ask me what is, please, I beg of you._

_Steve: No way. Pay attention, mister. I won't have Pepper returning you to the tower in a cardboard box tonight. I need you whole._

_Tony: Need me "whole" or need my…_

_Steve: Don't you dare finish that._

_Tony: You're no fun._

_Tony: Except, you're actually the best fun._

_Tony: Oh, you're going to beat me home so check the freezer before you go down to the party. There's something for you there._

Steve sighs, half in relief, half in exasperation. So there it is. Tony's gift is hidden in the freezer, probably artfully wrapped so Steve has to feel its shape and weight but can't see what it is until after Tony's teased him about it at the party for hours.

 _Okay,_ he replies, because he doesn't want to give Tony anymore ammunition than he needs. He changes and packs up his bag then heads down to the garage.

There's still about an hour before the party, but Steve goes right to the freezer and opens it. He's braced for ribbon or shiny paper, he's braced for all the food to be gone and the entire space to be filled with gifts, but instead, there's nothing. He wonders briefly if Tony had asked someone else to help him sneak something in while he was out and they forgot, but then he sees there's a plastic grocery bag with a sticky note on it. He takes it out and pulls off the note.

_Clint's only going to buy horrible flavours so I got this for us. <3 -TS _

Inside the bag is a tub of ice cream, vanilla with chocolate crackles in it - their shared favourite. Despite himself, Steve's heart falls a little. It's just the drop in adrenaline, not actual disappointment. Tony always goes over the top, and Steve's sure he will this year too, but the anticipation is killing him. He'd been hoping to have it over with.

He fiddles with the post-it note, and it occurs to him for the first time that Tony might have finally listened to him. Maybe all he gets this year is Tony.

He puts the ice cream back in the freezer and strips down to take a shower. He considers giving himself a "hand" as a little present to himself, but he and Tony will probably have sex that night after the party, and if he holds off, it'll feel even better to finally get Tony's skin on his.

Still, the warm water cascading over his chest reminds him of Tony's fingers drawing paths down his skin, and his cock throbs to life insistently. Steve wills it down, not going so far as to turn the water cold - because it _is_ his birthday after all - and by the time he's clean, he has himself under control again.

A part of him has been hoping that Tony will have appeared in their apartment while he showers, a little surprise to top off his increasingly raunchy texts, but it's still quiet and empty. Steve gets dressed, combs his hair back, and grabs the ice cream out of the freezer before heading downstairs.

The others have already gathered, and they all cheer when he enters the room. He laughs and shakes his head and accepts hugs and kisses from everyone, but it isn't until his eyes land on Tony, coming out of the back storage room, that it feels like a party.

Natasha and Clint have cooked an amazing meal, all of Steve's favourites, and while they eat, they tell stories about him, most embarrassing, some only tangential to the truth, and all wonderful. Nat has the best ones, but to everyone's surprise, Bruce has several good ones too. By the time their plates are empty, the back of Steve's neck is on fire and his cheeks are sore from smiling. Tony's hand is resting in a comfortably possessive way on his thigh and everything is perfect.

The cake comes out, a glorious monstrosity of red, white, and blue icing, and enough candles that Steve's sure the alarms are going to go off any second. They've apparently got one for every year in the ice as well, and ninety-nine candles is a sight to behold.

Steve shoots Tony a nervous look, but Tony leans over and whispers, "Don't worry, we locked DUM-E in the basement," and then he's just laughing with everyone else. They sing, double speed so the cake doesn't end up nothing more than a mess of melting wax, and then everyone pitches in to help Steve blow them all out and pluck them off, licking icing off the bottoms.

The cake is amazing, improved only by the ice cream Tony bought, because he's right: Clint had showed up with cotton candy, bubblegum, and something called "Unicorn Tears" that's bright pink and green. Thor suggests that Clint's taste buds haven't changed since he was ten, and the table agrees with a laugh.

It's warm inside, in contrast to the new, autumn crisp outside, and everyone's laughing, and Tony's shifting until he's nearly in Steve's lap, even as he points goodnaturedly at Bruce and accuses him of something that Steve hasn't been paying enough attention to understand. And it's perfect.

Then the presents start to appear, the gang piling them up in front of Steve. Tony doesn't move when the others do, merely shooting Steve a concerningly cheeky grin, but as Steve works his way through the stack, he's surprised to find that none of them are from Tony.

Nat got him a few movies on DVD, Clint, a set of Avengers bobbleheads that made him laugh, and Thor, a strange, green glowing thing that Thor insisted was a decoration from Asgard's equivalent to Ikea, but which Steve was sure was some kind of ancient artifact. Bruce got tickets for him and Tony to go to _Hamilton_. But none of the tags say _From Tony,_ and Tony doesn't move to add anything when the others are clear. Steve eyes the storage room Tony came out of earlier suspiciously, but he walks past it when he goes to the bathroom while everyone cleans up, and the door is open. There's nothing in it but the brooms and bottles of cleaning supplies that were already there.

Steve frowns at the bathroom mirror. It couldn't possibly be that Tony's upset with him, could it? There's no way that Tony doesn't _want_ to get him fancy gifts anymore, is there? People talk about a honeymoon period, but Steve has never been in a long enough relationship - if he was ever in one at all - to know what that means. He knows that over time things have calmed down, the excitement lessened into everyday domesticity. But he likes that. It's been a pleasant process, so far, and he'll trade knowing Tony down to his bones over the excitement of surprise, any day.

But Steve's birthday has always been when Tony finds a way to surprise him.

Or maybe not. Steve washes his hands and splashes a little of the heat out of his cheeks then joins the party again. The table is clear, so they settle in the living room to play games. They'd bought a party game called Taboo and things soon devolve into cheering and laughing and accusing everyone of cheating.

Tony sprawls over Steve's lap, a warm weight on his thighs, and Steve shoves away the doubts that had crept up in the bathroom. It's utterly crazy to think that Tony might love him less now than he used to. So what if he doesn't buy him outlandish gifts anymore? That isn't why Steve likes him, in fact, he likes him _in spite_ of that side of him, so why is he obsessing about it?

Beer gets handed around, followed by Thor's Asgardian mead, and Steve starts to build a happy buzz - a mix of super-strength booze, delicious food, happy laughter, and Tony in his arms. It feels far too early when Tony stands up and declares that they're leaving, taking Steve's hand and tugging him up to his feet too. But there's a soft heat in Tony's eyes that shoots straight south, and Steve's suddenly just as eager to leave.

The Avengers present Steve with the rest of the cake, leftovers from dinner, and far too many kisses and hugs, then shoo the couple into the elevator with much winking and catcalling.

Tony presses close against Steve's side in the elevator, blinking up at him like a happy cat. "Good birthday?" he asks.

"Amazing," Steve replies, wanting to tug him in close but unable to with arms full of presents and food.

They dump everything on the table upstairs, and Steve immediately pulls Tony into his arms. He presses kisses to his face, and after a moment, Tony pulls back, brow slightly creased. "You okay?" he asks, and Steve realizes that a little of his insecurity from earlier must have leaked into his hold.

"I'm wonderful," he says. "Thank you. Today was perfect."

"Ahh, not yet. You haven't had your present."

Steve's surprise must show on his face because Tony laughs and adds, "You didn't think I wasn't going to get you something, did you?"

"I would have been okay if you hadn't," Steve says honestly, even though he is a little relieved.

Tony's smirk deepens, and he turns around, rustling through the pile of gifts on the table. Steve watches him with growing confusion - he's already opened everything in that pile - but then Tony turns back, throwing his arms wide like he's a presenter on stage, grinning.

And Steve starts laughing, because Tony has the biggest, fanciest bow pressed over his belt buckle, a waterfall of curled ribbon spilling down and framing the slight bulge in his pants. Steve steps forward and draws a few tendrils of ribbon through his fingers then he gives Tony a look that he's sure is half amused, half incredulous, all turned on.

"Finally listened when I said all I wanted was you, huh?"

Tony slinks closer then takes Steve's hand and presses it flat over his crotch. "Don't you want to unwrap your gift?"

Steve knows Tony's getting a bit old for floor sex - was probably getting a bit old for it long before they got together, despite how often they didn't make it to the bed in those first few intense weeks - so he scoops him up in his arms and carries him to the bedroom.

Steve tosses Tony gently back on the bed, and Tony merely lets his arms flop open and shifts his hips in an enticing way. Steve really, _really_ wants to unwrap his present so he tugs the bow off, sticks it to Tony's forehead instead, and pops the button of his jeans open. He rolls the zipper down, his cock throbbing fuller, knowing what he's about to find, but as he parts the front of Tony's pants, he realizes he had _no idea_ what he was going to find.

Instead of the soft, red cotton of Tony's usual boxer briefs, Steve can see a shock of dark blue lace, stretched across Tony's smooth skin, the hair that usually curls around the base of his cock miraculously gone. Steve's mouth pools with saliva as he tugs Tony's jeans over his hips revealing more lace that disappears up under the hem of Tony's button-down shirt.

Steve undresses Tony like he's a kid unwrapping the one toy he'd asked for more than anything else - which isn't untrue at all - then he steps back and takes him in.

Tony is covered almost head to toe in lace. He's wearing panties, slightly hidden by the bottom of the skin-tight top that stretches over his chest and down to cover his hips. His hard cock presses a tent into both layers of lace, but it doesn't quite stretch enough, and Steve can see the head peeking out the top of the panties, under the top.

Tony's top has a deep vee at the front, criss-crossed with thin straps that form an intricate pattern around the arc reactor, framing it like the centrepiece in an art gallery. He knows how Steve feels about the soft, blue light that keeps him alive. Perfect… precious.

Tony's legs are encased in nearly sheer stockings that snap to straps that disappear under the top. Steve can't quite figure out how it all fits together, but that makes it even more enticing. He wants to trace every seam and strap with his fingers and his tongue.

"Tony," he breathes, flushing when he tastes the sheer awe spilling out of his mouth.

Tony grins and shifts back up the bed, toes curling in the stockings. He's perfect, beautiful, flawless. Steve needs a thesaurus to continue that list. He falls to his knees at the edge of the bed and takes one of Tony's silk-encased feet in his lap.

"Were you wearing this under your suit all day?"

"Sure was," Tony said, breath hitching when Steve's hands stroke up the soft fabric to find the swell of his calf. "That's why I was sending you all those texts. Couldn't stop thinking about tonight. I changed into jeans in the supply cupboard downstairs before the party, and holy shit I thought I was going to die, feeling the rough seams rubbing up against the lace."

"You're incredible." It's reverent and not enough. Steve curls over the edge of the bed, rubbing his nose along the inside of Tony's thigh, finding the delicate band of lace at the top of one stocking. He hooks a finger under the garter strap and slides up, knuckle tracing over Tony's smooth, tan skin. The blue suits him perfectly, dark enough that it's not too harsh but balances perfectly with the olive undertones of his skin. It reminds Steve of his stealth suit, and the thought of Tony picking colours that remind him of Steve makes him throb harder in his pants.

Steve pops the button on his own pants, just to relieve the pressure, then crawls up over Tony, eyes darting around as they try to find a place to land, but it's all so enticing. Tony doesn't offer any insight as to how Steve should enjoy his present, so he slides his fingers under the edge of the top and rolls it up over Tony's hips to his stomach, baring the garter belt underneath.  

The lace hugs every curve and corner of Tony's body in a way that makes it obvious it's custom made, just for him, just for _Steve._ Steve imagines Tony on his computer or, _god,_ in a store, picking things out, designing the outfit he knew would torture Steve the most. He's covered almost from head to toe, but the lace is soft and sheer and delicate, and Steve can see enough skin through it that he can't resist bending down and sucking a wet patch over the jut of Tony's cock. Tony gasps and arches back, pushing up towards Steve's mouth. He's rock hard, pushing the panties out obscenely, and as much as Steve wants to just suck him down right there, he has more exploring to do.

He rucks the top up to Tony's ribs, rubbing the soft lace between his fingers. It's so delicate, like gossamer spread over Tony's skin, an intricate, inviting spider web. Steve traces the outline of the arc reactor then slides his whole palm under the criss-crossing straps to watch the blue light spill through his fingers.

Tony's shoulders are bare save for the thin straps that hold the top up, and Steve tests the feel of those too before kissing his way along Tony's collarbone and up to his lips. "You are stunning," he whispers into Tony's mouth, and Tony hums with pleasure, his body vibrating.

Steve reaches down and runs his palm, blind, up Tony's side, starting at the curve of his thigh. He strokes over the thin strap of the panties, the garter belt, smooth skin, and then the lace top. He stops with his palm curved around Tony's jaw and kisses him, too hard.

"Oh god, are you going to tease me all night?" Tony asks with a whine. "I did not plan this through."

Steve rocks against Tony, the stiff fabric of his jeans catching on the delicate lace. He pushes his rock hard cock into Tony's stomach with a raised eyebrow. "My self control is dental floss right now. I just wanted to see all of you before I ruin this so I can remember it."

Tony grins and squirms a little, writhing up against Steve's dick. The soft fabric of the garter belt kisses his skin and Steve gasps. "You know I never thought of that particular bonus to your super-powered memory. Your spank bank must be incredible."

"It is," Steve says softly. "It's all you."

Before Tony can make a snarky remark, Steve flips him over onto his stomach, making him yelp and scramble for a hold on the sheets. His legs are hanging off the edge, toes curling in the carpet, and his face is down, making his beautiful ass stick up in the air. He's completely hairless down there - a wax, Steve's mind helpfully supplies - and his skin is soft and smooth and unblemished. The lace cups his curves perfectly, a complex edge dancing down his ass and disappearing between his legs. Steve hooks his finger under the fabric and runs his knuckle lightly down the crack of Tony's ass, pulling the panties away a bit to watch them stretch over his skin. The straps from the garters curve around Tony's ass on either side, the perfect frame.

Steve's knuckle hits something.

"You didn't," he chokes out, and Tony chuckles into the sheets. He wriggles his ass back and forth. Steve tugs the panties aside, and sure enough, a small, flat disc is wedged between his cheeks. The end is jeweled with a motif of Steve's shield, and he's not sure if he wants to laugh, cry, or bury his face in that ass and never come out.

Instead, he tugs on the shiny end and watches as a slick, glass plug slides out of Tony's hole, stretching it wide around the bulge of the plug before it falls free, leaving Tony shiny and pink and waiting for him.

He exchanges two fingers for the plug, pushing a moan out of Tony, and _god,_ he is so slick and hot, his muscles eagerly pulling Steve in. He needs to fill him with his dick _now;_ he's so hard he's worried he might burst.

Steve stands suddenly, trying to kick his pants off without pulling his fingers from Tony, but it won't work. He steps back, ignoring Tony's huff of frustration, and strips naked before pressing up behind him again. He rubs the head of his cock over Tony's hole, the slick heat drawing him in, the soft lace of the panties pressing against him on the side.

Tony looks utterly debauched already, with his top rucked up and his back heaving with choppy breathes. A hot flush colours the back of his neck and his hands open and close in the sheets. "Come on, babe," Tony whines. "Fuck me."

And what can Steve do but oblige? He still has enough of his wits about him to push in slowly, knowing the plug isn't nearly enough prep, but when Tony arches up on his toes and gasps, Steve stutters forward. Tony is molten lava around him, pushing back to sink more of Steve inside him, and Steve loses it.

He thrusts, burying himself to the base. His hands land on either side of Tony's lace-covered hips, and he starts fucking into him in earnest. All he knows is the slick slide of his cock on Tony's hole, Tony's gasped out moans - broken and wordless now - and the way the lace rubs against his skin. He presses down against Tony's back, sucking a soft spot between his shoulder blades and thrilling at the rub of the fabric on his nipples. Tony is sensation everywhere like this, utterly immersive, and Steve falls into it head first, thrusting wildly now.

When Tony's cries ratchet up, Steve realizes he can't miss seeing Tony come all over his perfect blue panties. He flips Tony over again and tosses him up the bed to the pillows, following after. He traces a long line of kisses up Tony's body, each one a new sensation on his lips - the tingle of the stockings, the soft breath of the lace, the warmth of Tony's skin - then plunges into him again, thrusting hard enough that Tony has to reach up and brace his hands against the headboard.

Steve has one hand settled on the mattress, one holding Tony's thigh up, thumb hooked in the panties to keep them from catching. Tony's moans have cut off entirely, his mouth open in a silent cry, and Steve knows he's close. He thrills at the sheer satisfaction of bringing Tony off on his cock alone, and he watches as Tony's cock twitches and leaks where it's trapped against his stomach. There's a dark spot on the waistband of the panties where Tony's spilled precome already, and Steve shifts his knees and finds the angle that he knows will push Tony over the edge.

And it works. Tony cries out and arches off the bed, a full body shudder rattling through him, and then he's coming, streaks of white marring his stomach and his perfect lingerie, staining the dark blue even darker as the wetness pools.

It's too beautiful. Steve wants this to last forever, but the pleasure building in his core is too much. He can't slow the wild thrusting of his hips, and he can't hold off the oncoming orgasm. He folds down over Tony, taking and taking, fingers digging a pattern of bruises into Tony's thigh, no doubt beautiful peeking through the intricate blue lace. Tony sighs, like he's never been happier, almost a hiccough, and that's what pushes Steve over the edge. He charges forward with a whine and buries his cock as deep into Tony as he can, wave after wave of pleasure filling Tony with his come. When he pulls back, he feels a trickle leak out after him and he lets the panties slide back into place, soaking quickly, keeping Steve's come trapped in Tony's body.

He burrows into Tony's neck, despite needing oxygen he doesn't find there. They're sweating, chests heaving, and utterly spent, and Steve's sure he's never been happier. "Best present ever," he gasps out. The bow has fallen off Tony's forehead at some point and is crushed next to the pillow.

Tony's chest shakes in silent laughter, and then he says, shaky in a way that makes Steve's puff up with satisfaction, "You haven't even found your present yet."

Steve pushes up sharply and stares down at Tony. "What?"

"Yeah, that bow was over my pocket where I have the keys for your new helicopter, but for some reason you thought -"

Steve's howling now, laughing like a crazed hyena, and he leaps on Tony and rolls them over, squeezing him tightly until he's laughing too and squirming, trying to escape. He traps Tony in the cage of his arms and kisses him silly, rutting gently against the lace, until they're both breathless and have to take a moment to recover. Steve flops flat on his back but turns his head towards Tony. Tony meets his gaze with a soft smile. "You didn't really get me a helicopter, did you?"

"No comment," Tony says, lips twitching up at the corners.

"You're insane," Steve whispers across the pillow. "I love you so much. You're going to marry me someday, right?" His heart thunders in his chest as he realizes what he's just said.

Tony rolls over into his arms, tucked up against his chest, presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and says, "Of course," like it's the simplest thing in the world. Steve gathers him up in his arms, a handful of soft lace twisted through his fingers between Tony's shoulder blades.

Maybe it is.

"Happy birthday," Tony adds, a few minutes later when their breathing has steadied out and the soft darkness of the room has settled close around them.

Steve doesn't mention that it's already past midnight. He wants this birthday to go on forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on tumblr at festiveferret.tumblr.com. Wish my darling love a happy birthday at ashes0909.tumblr.com <3333


End file.
